A Flicker of Hope
by quarterlifecrisis
Summary: He felt her betrayal as deeply as he felt his own and he just wanted to take her away from all this pain. But he couldn't, could he. For no matter where you went, he knew, your pain followed close behind. There was no getting away from it. You had to get through it, if you wanted to move on. A story of hope and redemption. Angsty, thoughtful Loki. Slightly Loki/Darcy romance,maybe
1. Chapter 1

Loki didn't bother looking up as thunderous footsteps came near his balcony. The sound of Thor's boots was unmistakable, and had been so since they were children.

A warm hand landed lightly on his shoulder. "My brother."

It was funny, really. Thor had been coming to visit Loki every day of his punishment. And each of those days, three hundred twenty-five of them now, Thor's voice always sounded the same. Broken. At first, Loki had assumed Thor was pining for his mortal love and he inwardly cursed his brother for that weakness. But now he knew that it was not for Jane Foster that Thor mourned.

For weeks and months Loki had railed as only the truly mad can against his binds, screaming profanities behind his gag at the people who witnessed his shame, at his family for their betrayal. At Thor for being what Loki could not.

Eventually, inevitably perhaps, Loki's sanity had returned. His rational mind, his true strength, had shown him, over and over, the glaring mistakes he had made in his attack on Midgard. It had been shocking really. Loki knew better than to underestimate anyone, which was exactly what he had done and was exactly why he had been defeated so handily. He had let his emotions control him utterly. The agony of Odin's lies, the horror of discovering his true heritage, the jealousy of Thor. He'd meant to die when he let himself fall from the Bifrost. Instead he'd ended up in a place of further torture. And though he shuddered at the memory, he was capable of appreciating the irony of his utter manipulation at the hands of the dark ones. They had known just how to hit him, and with what to break him. His misery had fueled his madness to the point where he had agreed to attack Midgard, though looking back, he knew that what Tony Stark had said to him was correct. There had never been any scenerio where Loki was victorious. And it had all come to rest at his feet. He knew his punishment on Asgard would be weak compared to what would be done to him elsewhere. It was this realization that forced him to see it for what it was. Mercy. Love. His family, regardless of the circumstances he had come to them, regardless of his inability to accept that he had been lied to, regardless of the fact that he was a monster, loved him.

Loki sighed through his nose. Honestly, he now considered his brother's visits, his loyalty, his love, more of a punishment than the silver binds on his wrists and his mouth. Truly it was more difficult to bear Thor's forgiveness than it was to stand without rest or food, more difficult than the public humiliation. For his punishment had done what it was designed to do. It had defeated Loki's pride.

Now all he wanted was to be left alone. Though his sanity had returned, or perhaps because it had, Loki was left with nothing but heartache. He ached for himself, for the moster he was, for the lie his life had been. He ached for his mother, who had shorn her hair in grief for him and now wandered through the palace, aimless and mourning for the son she had not borne but adored nonetheless. He ached for Odin, his father. But mostly, he ached for Thor. His brother, who wore his heart on his sleeve despite being a fierce warrior. And while Thor missed his Jane, Loki knew that it was he who broke his bother's heart.

"My brother." Thor was waiting, as always, for Loki to lift his gaze, which as usual, he did not. Thor sighed, a tired sound. Why do you torture yourself this way, brother. Loki wished Thor would move on from him. Just go back to Midgard and be happy.

"Our father has summoned us."

This brought Loki's head around and as he met his brother's eyes for the first time in months he saw Thor's horrified expression before it was hidden. Loki was certain it was appropriate. Though he knew Odin protected the secret Loki's of true parentage with his own magic, it did little to improve Loki's increasingly gaunt and dirty appearance, and he knew the despair Thor must have seen in his eyes. He saw it himself every time he accidentally caught his reflection in the windows around him. But why would the AllFather want to see him? His punishment was not yet complete, and even if it had been, Loki was sure he'd be remanded to his rooms for the forseeable future. What could have happened that Odin wanted to see him now? Mother?

"She is fine, Loki. Mother is okay." Loki knew his brother couldn't read his mind, so Thor must have noticed the panic on Loki's face, and he realized his eyes were shifting manically and he was breathing hard through his nose. Forcing himself to calm, he met Thor's gaze again, a question in his eyes.

"I need to take you to Father. Everything will be explained then." As Thor worked to remove the shackles on Loki's legs, Loki tried to read his brother's face. It was obvious Thor knew what Odin wanted, but his normally honest face was closed off, telling Loki nothing. Suddenly he was free to move his legs and he staggered, only kept off the floor by his brother's strength. Thor started to lift him but Loki shook his head fiercly. He would not be carried like a child or an invalid before Odin. Thor gave a half laugh and backed off, holding Loki only by the arm. It would seem that Loki's pride was not completely gone after all.

It took them a while, but finally the brothers entered Odin's throne room and stood before their father. Loki noticed their mother was not there and again felt a pang of guilt for her suffering. Odin's heavy stare kept Loki's eyes on the floor, as much to concetrate on not falling down as on his shame, the muscles in his legs twitching and prickling from the sudden use. Thor kept his hand under Loki's arm, as though restraining him, but in truth supporting, as always.

"My sons." Loki lifted his eyes, slicked with tears, at his father's words. His heart clenched in his chest. Odin still considered him a son.

"The punishment is being changed." Odin was never one to waste words, and he seemed to be watching the brothers as he spoke. Loki looked at Thor, who wore a cautious expression, a ghost of his former optimism. Loki himself felt a wave of fear and hope at the situation, so much so that he trembled. Thor tightened his grip, the gesture strangly comforting.

"There is trouble brewing yet again for Midgard. Heimdall has seen a plot by the dark ones to attack it once more, not to rule it, but to destroy it utterly." Odin paused, drawing a deep breath, as though bracing himself for what he was going to say next.

"Loki. Have you any knowledge of this." It wasn't really a question, Loki knew. And although he was the God of Lies and Mischief, he could think of no reason the dark ones would attack Midgard again. He had been led to believe that the first attack was to distract Thor and to allow Loki to rule over the mortals as a gateway to conquering the whole of the Nine Realms. Meeting his father's eyes, Loki slowly shook his head.

"Very well." Odin's voice was strong and echoed magically throughout all of Asgard. "My son Loki is returned to me. In the care of his brother Thor he will be sent to Midgard to complete the punishment for his crimes. In order to serve justice, Loki will defend Midgard and all those who live there from this new threat." Thor's breath exploded out of his mouth, a sigh of relief and a sob combined. Both brothers fell to their knees before their father, their king, in deference and overwhelmed. Dimly, Loki heard Odin order him to be released from his bonds, fed and bathed and tended to. Thor wept openly, hugging Loki to him, as Loki buried his face in Thor's shaking shoulder. He felt his father's large hand on his bowed head, stroking his hair, and his heart shattered once again.


	2. Chapter 2

Loki wandered aimlessly through the Norwegian compound on Midgard, not sure where to go but definitely not wanting to "hang" with his brother and his mortal companions. Not that he'd been invited to do so. He could feel the antagonism radiating from Jane Foster; pale in comparison to the open hatred from Eric Selvig. Loki didn't have a need to beg their forgiveness, it wouldn't be given anyway, and worse, he couldn't even blame them. So to spare them all the awkwardness, he'd left them alone. He eventually found himself in a dimly lit hallway leading past empty rooms he assumed to be laboratories, the beige walls matching the beige carpeting which softened his footsteps. As he came to a dark room with a glass wall, Loki caught his reflection, slightly distorted. He looked like a lost spirit, tall and thin, with paper white skin and eyes like black holes in an expressionless face. It seemed appropriate.

Sighing heavily, he leaned his back against the glass and closed his eyes. He knew what he was here to do, and was grateful Odin had given him this modicum of freedom, however difficult the Midgardians were going to make it on him. He was under no illusions that any on this planet were relieved to see him, regardless of the threat they were under. Although mortals were a forgiving lot, probably due to the transitory nature of their short lives, Loki did not believe there was a way to remove the red from his ledger, to borrow the expression from the Black Widow, Agent Romanov. He wondered if, in fact, he would cause more harm with his presence than good, wondered if Thor had really thought this venture through. Perhaps it would be better to remain unseen, as forgotten as possible, until such time as he was needed in battle. Perhaps disappearing was the only kindness he had to offer.

Sighing again, Loki coulnd't help but laugh at himself, though he lacked any real mirth. How positivley maudlin he was lately. Though at times sullen, his natural inclination for mischief had always kept him entertaining, even if only to himself. His punishment on Asgard had been successful on so many levels; the breaking of his pride and the gagging of his mouth had turned his inner monologue into a ruthless introspective, capable of being downright depressing.

Just as he was pushing himself up to walk away, a small sound caught Loki's attention. He froze in place, tilting his head, listening. The hallway was quiet and dark, the muffled breathy sounds coming from the opposite side of the glass wall probably wouldn't have been noticable to anyone but him. Shrouding himself, he walked into the room, which was full of computer equipment and filing cabinets and rolling white boards covered with mathmatical equations. In the back corner were a couple of desks, one buried in messy piles of paper, the other neat to the point of appearing barren. Loki followed the sounds around the neat desk, remaining silent and hidden in the shadows of the room. A small figure was sitting on the floor behind the desk, huddled into itself, shaking as if terrified. Another sound, a sob, broke free from the figure, and Loki realized it must be the young woman who lived with and assisted Jane Foster, as there would be no other people in the compound at this hour of the night. He also realized that she shook not with terror but with sorrow, misery rolling off her in waves as she fought to control her emotions, her quiet crys sounding in his ears with a familiarity that raised chills along his skin. This girl was utterly heatbroken.

Uncomfortable, Loki turned to leave her, to let her suffer in solitude, when she leapt to her feet and began throwing awkward punches and barefoot kicks into the nearest filing cabinet, grunting and sobbing, out of control. Without thinking, Loki dropped his veil and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her back, whispering urgently in her ear.

"Stop this. It will not help."

She struggled against him and he held her as gently as he could, not wanting her fight to cause bruises in the shape of his fingers. She wore herself out and slumped in his hands, then turned and fell against him, wrapping her arms around his waist, clinging to him as though he could save her very soul. As she wept openly into his chest, Loki was so surprised he couldn't react, couldn't resist, couldn't push her away or pull himself back. He stood there in her embrace, his hands hovering above her shoulders, struck stupid for the very first time in his life. Even though he was known as the God of Lies, the naked honesty of her tears, the open vulnerability of her pain, touched an un-named something in him that he hadn't thought survived the turmoil of the past years. His hands found themselves resting lightly on her back, fingers sliding through the ends of her long hair, arms accepting her need for comfort. And despite the twinge of guilt he felt because she didn't really know who was holding her, and would likely run screaming if she did, Loki also felt a release in his own pain, a loosening in the grip around his heart and an easing in his breath. Another deep sigh overtook him, washing away a bit of the tired hopelessness he'd been living in, and he held her.


	3. Chapter 3

Loki stood on the roof of the compound and watched the Midgard sun climb its way into the sky, bathing the world in warmth and light. He hadn't slept, didn't really have a need to, and assumed it helped the mortals inside sleep better knowing he wasn't nearby. In truth, and surprising to even himself, he found their unconcious minds tempting to his mischievious side. What entertainment he could have with their dreams, if he so chose, as mortals tended to have much more vivid and malleable dreams than those in other realms. He shook his head, finding it childish to have believed that his nature could be beaten from him completely. He was who he was and, it seemed, there was no changing that. Loki didn't know whether to be relieved or angry or worried at the realization. Beyond his love of mischief, did he even know who he was? Was he Thor's brother and Odin's son, a mostly benign and loyal man who craved acceptance? Was he Laufey's offspring, a hated frost giant bastard, a relic stolen and stored by Odin to be used when needed? Or was he Loki of Asgard, burdened with glorious purpose, tyrant and murderer?

He refocused on the rising sun, staring straight into it, trying to push his troubling thoughts away. Unbidden, the image of him holding the girl last night came to him, the feeling of arms wrapped around his waist and the scent of strawberry shampoo and the sound of soft feminine weeping and the lightness of his heart in those moments. After she cried herself to exhaustion, she had pulled back and tried to look up at him. He had known she couldn't see his features in the darkness, but he drew his fingers down in front of her face anyway and put her in a light trance. No point in her recognizing him, though they'd never actually met. Carefully, he'd lowered her back down to the floor where she'd been and left as silently as he had come. He had continued his wandering, picking up on Thor's voice occasionally, sounding as though he was pleading. His brother's little mortal must have been quite upset at Thor's sudden reappearance after so long, with none other than Loki in tow and the revelation that the visit to Midgard was not for her but to thwart yet another attack. Loki actually felt sorry for Thor, as his brother's strength was certainly not in his pursuasive abilities, and particularly not with women. Of course, Thor had never had to coerce a woman before. He would dazzle them with a smile and the flex of a well-muscled arm and women would literally throw themselves at his feet, eager for him. Loki didn't know how things had ended between them last night, but he wished his brother luck with Jane Foster. Thor definitely needed it.

So lost in his thoughts, Loki didn't notice the girl from last night approaching until she was standing right behind him. And to think, he'd once bragged to Agent Romanov that not many could sneak up on him. He stood still, waiting for her to do something. Perhaps she just wanted to watch the sunrise and would ignore him. A few moment passed, silent and awkward, the proverbial elephant in the room hanging over both of them. Finally, his curiousity about her overshadowed his self-preservation and he turned. She appeared to have been staring at his back and now focused somewhere over his left shoulder, her face full of uncomfortable knowledge but strangly, no animosity. So she must remember last night after all. He'd hoped she wouldn't, for both of their sakes, or at least to have thought it all a dream. She still didn't say anything, seeming to be gathering her thoughts, and he took the opportunity to study her features. She had an unusually lovely face, with large eyes and a full wide mouth, her long chestnut hair painted with reddish streaks in the early morning light. She was petite, the top of her head only reaching his chest. He shifted uneasily at the memory and, as if she were remembering the same thing, her eyes snapped to his. He waited, his face impassive, wondering if she was going to yell at him, call him a monster for what he had done before, slap him for decieving her last night. He waited, and knew he wouldn't stop her if she tried.

"I'm Darcy." Her voice was as unusual as her face, and no less lovely, except he couldn't help but wonder how much of that huskiness was from crying, if the low tone was as much from embarrassment as natural pitch. He didn't reply, assuming she knew who he was from her body language and the distance she kept. "I just wanted to thank you for last night. You know, the um, the filing cabinet and all that. I probably would've hurt myself." She paused, looking down at her feet, then glancing back up at him. "And since no one is wigging on me this morning, I'm guessing you didn't tell anyone, which is actually pretty awesome." Another pause, another glance at his face, and she cleared her throat. "So, um, thanks."

Loki knew it was rude not to answer, and that his silence was probably making her nervous, but he honsetly didn't know what to do with her gratitude. It was the last thing he'd expected from her, from anybody. Any time he'd helped Thor and his friends by fighting in battle or by weaving a convincing lie to keep them all out of trouble, he'd never once been thanked. Invitations to get drunk on mead and share women with Fandrel certainly did not equal appreciation, at least not in his eyes.

The girl, Darcy, looked nervously around, as though she just realized she was alone with the madman who had sent the Destroyer to kill Thor and, by default, had nearly killed her and her friends, then had tried to take over her world and had destroyed much of New York City in the attempt. He needed to set her at ease, to assure her that he was no longer that madman, even though he wasn't sure that was true. He cleared his suddenly dry throat and she jumped back faster than he would have thought possible for her. He stepped back, dipping his head and hunching his shoulders and holding his hands slightly out from his body, palms up, to appear as non-threatening as possible. He would have laughed at himself, at how ridiculous a notion it was not only for someone to be so threatened by only his physical presence but also that he was trying so hard not to be imposing, if it hadn't been so pathetic. All he'd ever wanted was to see the respect and yes, even fear, in the eyes of those acquainted with his hulking warrior brother and father, so much so that he had lost his mind to it, had done unspeakable things to achieve it. Now, though, with her, with Darcy, he only wanted her to be at ease with him. How beautifully ironic.

"You are most welcome."

Darcy's eyes became even larger at the sound of his voice, comically so, even though he'd kept his tone soft. She blinked a few times and shook her head, then met his gaze with a bravado he knew was false, but respected in her anyway.

"Okay." She turned on her heel and walked away. Loki returned to watching the sun and absently rubbed the spot on his chest above his heart, where Darcy had cried the night before.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks so much for following/fav-ing/reviewing. It means a lot to me. And to Inspiratus, your words absolutely made my day. Thank you so much and I hope you enjoy the resolution.

Loki was still sitting on the roof that evening as the sun sank into the horizon, painting the sky an almost absurdly beautiful assortment of colors. The mortals who lived here most certainly did not appreciate the beauty of their world enough, though he supposed the same could be said of those in Asgard. When you see the same things all your life, no matter how miraculous, you tend to think of them as normal rather than extraordinary. It was a pity to find such a similiarity between the races.

Focusing his senses down into the building, he caught the emotions of those inside and decided that staying away from everyone was definitely better for all involved. There was a lightness to their psyches when they could momentarily forget his presence. Including Thor. Right now, his brother was laughing at something Jane had said, feeling profound peace at the touch of her hand and joy in the blush upon her cheeks. Apparently all was well between them, and despite feeling left out and a bit jealous of his brother's happiness, Loki was honestly glad everything had worked out.

"Just like it always does." Loki wasn't sure where the thought had come from, or why he'd said it out loud, but it didn't stop him from noticing her this time. Darcy was opening the door to the roof just as he spoke, and she looked over at him, confusion wiping a bit of the fear off her face. He looked down at his boots, to put her at ease and, truthfully, to hide his embarrassment at getting caught talking to himself. On Asgard people knew it to be a habit of his and thought nothing of it, only to beware in case he was casting a spell. Here though, he knew that people who talked to themselves were often considered mad, and he didn't really want to be reinforcing that particular perception, however true it might be.

Darcy walked over to him, her steps fumbled and cautious as drew near, her fear coming to the forefront again upon closing the distance between them. She stopped a few feet from him, closer than he thought she'd get. He didn't look up at her, just waited for her to speak, though why she was here again he couldn't fathom. It was obvious she was scared of him, so why come to him again?

"I brought you some dinner." Her words were rushed as though she'd had to force them past her teeth, but they were enough to bring his head up, shocked to see the steaming plate she held. She had brought him dinner? Was this more of her gratitude? It seemed a kindness he did not warrent, especially from her.

He made no move to take the plate from her, wary of her jumpiness and not really wanting hot food thrown in his face if he startled her. He tried to affect a gentle disposition and opened his hands, moving slowly, then sat still. He watched her watch him and took no offense to the suspicion in her eyes, even though he didn't like it. He couldn't figure out why he wanted this simple mortal girl to like him, but he did. Well. Not like him, really, just be comfortable around him. Like she was around Thor. Since meeting her, Loki had combed his memories of Thor's banishment, and though he hadn't been paying any particular attention to Darcy, he remembered her being very open and friendly with his brother, making jokes and asking him questions almost incessantly. It had annoyed him at the time, to think that Thor had made friends so quickly and easily, that he'd found people to take him in and help him during his banishment. It had fed his jealousy then, and still did. He couldn't stop himself from envying his brother's way with people and how at odds it seemed with Thor's war-loving nature. He could piss off the mightiest of enemies when he wanted to fight, and could still make friends when he was feeling jovial. And not just casual friends, but friends who were loyal to the death. Thor could even inspire that same loyalty in Loki, had always been able to. He'd almost succeeded in talking Loki down in New York, just by asking him to fight at his side. Loki had been sorely tempted and it had taken every bit of his insanity to keep him from it.

Finally, Darcy inched closer and stretched her arm as far as it would go, leaning her face and body back from him, as though she expected him to attack her and she was only willing to risk one arm. He deserved it, he knew, but couldn't stop the tired sigh that escaped. Slowly reaching out, he took the plate from her, almost spilling it because she let go and snapped her hand back so quickly. He settled in to eat when she spoke.

"Damn, I forgot to bring you a fork." He manifested one in his hand and started eating, the strange Midgardian food surprisingly delicious and satisfying. Though he expected her to leave, Darcy stayed and watched him all the while. Something about the experience must have reassured her, because he was only half finished when she started speaking again.

"You have really nice table manners." Gratitude and a compliment? How surprising, although considering this girl had surprised him more than once in their short acquaintence, he supposed he should be getting used to it. "Of course, you're not really at a table, but then again I guess that makes it even more impressive. Having table manners without a table."

Loki spared her a glance at her outburst and noticed that she had come even closer, tilting her head to the side and studying him. The fear had been overtaken again, although this time by genuine curiosity. He found he rather liked it on her face.

"Would you care to sit down?" He didn't look at her when he said it, as though her answer was of no consequence one way or the other, and he told himself that it wasn't, even as his heart lifted in hope. Darcy seemed taken back, and he cursed himself a fool for pushing. Then she surprised him again. She sat down next to him, not touching but certainly close enough to, and he wondered if she wasn't the one who was mad, leaving herself this vulnerable next to him. But this was what he wanted, her to feel comfortable, to be with him. Well. Not be with him, he corrected himself again, but be around him. His body wanted to shift uncomfortably at the thought, but he stopped himself. He didn't want to scare her.

"So why have you been up here all day? And why were you talking to yourself?" Apparently sitting next to him opened up the door to asking questions. "Why are you guys back here anyway? Shouldn't you be back on Asgard?"

Loki wondered which question she wanted answered first, or if she even remembered all the ones she'd asked. "Thor and I are here to help defend the Earth from another probable attack. Odin sent us."

"Oh. So why are you up here?"

Looks like she did remember. "It seems as though everyone is more comfortable that way." He noticed she didn't argue.

"And you were talking to yourself because?"

"I should think that would be obvious." Darcy's face was extremely expressive and he saw the exact moment his words hit home.

There was no one else to talk to.

Her face crumpled into what could be called grudging sympathy and he had to look away. He didn't want her to pity him, and the flare of anger at her was hard to beat down. He breathed deeply for a moment then set his plate down and stood, walking away from her. He braced his hands on the concrete lip of the building, bending at the waist a bit to manage it but the anger had hit him so quick and so hard, he needed to hold onto something to keep it at bay. There was a blinding fury in his eyes and a deafening roar in his ears as he wrestled with his emotions, desperately trying to get them back under his control. By the time he'd calmed down, he assumed Darcy had left, her fear returned and multiplied. But yet again, she surprised him. She had stayed, watching him battle himself, and was now standing at his side, cautiously reaching out a hand and placing it on his arm. Loki remained still, head hanging off his slumped shoulders, that glimmer of hope flaring again in his chest. He looked down at her hand, her delicate feminine hand with oddly colored fingernails, resting lightly on his leather vambrace. Steeling himself, he met her eyes. She looked back at him with a sorrow so deep it took his breath away, and yet there was no pity, only an understanding that he couldn't begin to guess at.

"Why are you here?" Loki felt a need to know this woman, this mortal whose gaze was suddenly ancient and fathomless as Yggdrasil itself.

"It seems as though everyone is more comfortable that way." She quoted his answer from before. Why was she an outcast? Weren't these people her friends? The questions were on his face and he knew that she saw them by her deep sigh and a tightening of her fingers on his arm.

"When you found me last night. I was upset. Yeah, really, upset." Her words were stunted and he watched her emotions play out on her face. Embarrassment, hurt, anger, sorrow, hopelessness. It was all there for him to witness and she made no attempt to hide it from him.

Then again, he'd already seen it, hadn't he.

"Just before you guys got here, Jane got a call from SHIELD telling her that you, well, that Thor, was coming and that she, Erik, and Thor were going to be moved back to New York to be with the Avengers. They didn't mention you, actually, so maybe they didn't know you were coming, or maybe they did and they didn't want to deal with the drama. I don't know. But when Jane got off the phone, she was so excited to see Thor again and Erik was happy because it was Agent Coulson who called, yeah he's not dead. Fury just let the Avengers think he was so that they'd fight you instead of each other. And they call YOU the God of Lies. Geez, that guy puts you to shame, no offense."

Loki shook his head at her babbling, though he was pleasantly surprised to hear that he hadn't killed Agent Coulson. The man had been brave to face him and Loki had come to regret his death more than any other single act during his madness. And he had to admit, Fury was a man after his own heart to concoct a plan to make a martyr out of Coulson. It had been the solidarity the heroes had needed to turn the tide against the his army.

"So anyway, Jane's excited and Erik's happy and I'm all like, cool back to the States and Stark Tower with its awesomely stocked refridgerators. Cuz Tony Stark, love him or hate him, keeps all the best goodies in his fridges. Then all of a sudden, Jane and Erik are quiet and staring at me like I'd grown another head. And Jane says..."

Darcy trailed off, her voice cracking. "Jane says that I'm not coming with them. That I'm going back to New Mexico to walk the line at graduation and get a real job. As though I don't bust my ass for her and Erik. Like I'm just disposable." Her voice cracked again, and she let out a sob. She slapped a hand over her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut, fighting against her emotions as he had done. Without thinking, Loki covered the hand still on his arm with own. At that, Darcy threw herself against him again, holding tight to his waist, sobbing against his chest, just as before. This time, Loki wrapped his arms around her shaking shoulders, running his hands in soothing circles across her back, hugging her to him. This time, he understood exactly where she was coming from, and he knew that this was a pain that wouldn't go away for a long time.

She clung to him, just as she had before, then raised her head and grabbed the front of his coat with both hands, crushing the leather in tight, white-knuckled fists. "Do you even know what happened after Thor left the first time? After Jane was convinced he wasn't coming back, because something had gone wrong? She became obsessed with finding a way to him. I'm talking, obsessed. Like, crazy obsessed. Then when he did come back to fight you, he didn't even call her or anything, and Erik was hypnotized by your glowing stick thingie and then you and Thor left again. Do you even know what happened?"

Darcy was breathing hard, practically shrieking at him, and he wanted to say something, to apologize for the wrongs he'd done, the harm he'd caused. Honestly, he hadn't cared or even given thought to the collatoral damage of his actions. He wanted to tell her that he'd been crazed, tortured. But he kept his silence because he knew there was nothing he could say to make up for what he'd done, and because he had the strange feeling that her anger wasn't really aimed at him.

"Jane took obsession to a new level." Darcy's voice was quiet now, but no less intense as she continued her story. "She worked day and night, didn't sleep, didn't eat. She said it didn't matter whether Thor loved her or not, she was going to find a way to Asgard for herself, for her research. She lost a lot of weight, and I mean, you've seen her, it's not like she had it to lose. She was even hospitalized once, for exhaustion and dehydration. And Erik. He started to drink, like all the time. Whatever you did to him, he couldn't get it out of his head. He would have these nightmares, wake up screaming and wimpering, covered in sweat and piss. He felt responsible for helping you, said that the dead spoke to him, blamed him for everything."

Darcy paused again, and Loki felt sick to his stomach. He knew those nightmares. He'd had them while he healed from his punishment on Asgard. There was a good reason he avoided sleep now. And though he didn't particularly like Erik Selvig, he did regret giving the man those dreams. It was a wonder the man hadn't been driven completely mad.

"I made Jane eat." Darcy was whispering now, forehead against his chest, knowing somehow that he could hear her. "I made her drink water, I called the ambulance when I found her passed out in the floor with her heart barely beating. I tried to organize her work, her notes, so that she'd be able to make some sense out of it. I made her take showers and I washed her clothes." She took a shuddering breath. "I went to bars in the middle of the night to pick up Erik. I made him eat and shower too. I cleaned up his puke and I changed his sheets and I called the ambulance for him too, when he tried to hang himself from the doorknob, although not because he'd actually hurt himself. He was too drunk to tie a knot so the sheet just slipped off his neck but I saw what he tried to do and I ..."

Darcy was sobbing again now, and Loki held her, his own face wet with tears for her. He was sorry for what had happened to Jane and Erik, for the pain he'd caused them. But mostly, he was sorry for everything that had happened to Darcy. For disrupting her life, for putting her in danger, for the things she'd had to do for her friends because of him. And his heart broke again, for her this time. He didn't know anyone who would be so strong in the face of what she'd been through, not even Sif. And now, on top of the proof of her strength, her friends that she had sacrificed so much for were abandoning her. He felt her betrayal as deeply as he felt his own and he just wanted to take her away from all this pain. But he couldn't, could he. For no matter where you went, he knew, your pain followed close behind. There was no getting away from it. You had to get through it, if you wanted to move on. And Loki knew that Darcy would get through it. She would survive and go on with her life and be happy, eventually. And standing here, with her in his arms, Loki knew that he would spend the rest of his days watching over her, protecting her. For the world should not lose a blessing such as she and he shuddered when he thought of how easily she could have been killed in New Mexico, his breath catching in his throat at how he could have, would have, killed her.

Darcy must have felt him tremble because she pressed herself even closer to him and mimicked his earlier movements, smoothing her hands up and down his back, reaching through her own misery to comfort him. And suddenly he went from protector to protected, clinging to her and burying his face in her hair and weeping for them both and babbling apologies over and over. His legs gave way and they slowly sank down to their knees and then her hands were on his face, wiping his tears, soothing him. He swept his thumbs across her cheeks, gathering her tears as he wished he could gather her pain and take it away. She kissed his brow, his closed eyelids, the tip of his nose, his mouth, soothing not sexual, and Loki returned the gesture, kissing her brow, her eyelids, her nose and her mouth. He leaned his forehead against hers and when she smiled, the hope that flickered in his chest, the hope for her life and his redemption, the hope for friendship and acceptance, finally burst into a flame that would never be extinguished.

Far above Loki and Darcy, beyond the clouds and stars and moon and planets, past the broken remains of the rainbow bridge, Frigga smiled at her husband when he brushed a tear from her face. Odin, the Allfather, King of Asgard, saw his son kneeling on Midgard, and had never been so proud.

The End


End file.
